


Subculture

by viktorstardust



Category: LISA (Video Games)
Genre: Anonymous Sex, Blow Jobs, Clubbing, Deepthroating, Glory Hole, M/M, Pre-Canon, Pre-Flash, Self-Indulgent, Semi-Public Sex, Trans Male Character, Uncircumcised Penis, ambiguously anonymous character, he just wants to be loved man, it’s the 80s and terry’s like....22, like waaay too self indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:06:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23430664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viktorstardust/pseuds/viktorstardust
Summary: He thinks he likes it best this way, likes the sounds of pleasure he elicits from these strange men that will only ever know him for what he does with his mouth.Maybe someday there’ll be something more.
Relationships: Terry Hintz/Anonymous
Comments: 3
Kudos: 14





	Subculture

His favorite place in the world is a nightclub that’s open every night of the week, even though anyone with a decent job wouldn’t be dumb enough to catch themselves shitfaced on a Tuesday evening, grinding against a poorly-lit stranger to New Order.

And that’s where Terry’s different.

He loves the music and being bathed in those neon lights to forget about how dull the rest of Olathe looks in contrast for a night. He loves the feeling of strangers deciding he’s as good enough as any other stranger to dance around, or with, or up against.

In the morning it’ll be back to sleeping on the couch of someone he just has to trust not to kick him out, but still never really knowing when they’re gonna get fed up with him not having a job and not even really trying to “get back on his feet” as he calls it.

This might as well be his job. He’s not in it only for the dancing, after all.

As usual, there’s always one stall open in the bathroom, like it’s just for him. There should be some kind of shame in all this, being so well known as the other side of a glory hole in Olathe’s only real nightclub, but Terry doesn’t know shame as long as there’s strangers to come in and keep his mind off it. And there always are.

The guys that come in and know him, not by his face but by his lips and his tongue, aren’t sober enough to care who’s doing it. He’s gotten himself into trouble in bars that didn’t take as kindly to male bathroom blowjobs, but there’s booze and pills here to keep him safe from that. They don’t always leave money for him, but when they do, it goes to his very, very, very late portion of the rent at the apartment he’s living at right now. It’s not a waste of time if he makes money, and it’s not illegal if he sometimes doesn’t make money at all.

Works for him.

The bathroom is empty when he gets tired of dancing that night. He kneels on the floor of one of three stalls with big, one-size-fits-all glory holes cut into them. He’s always wondered who makes the holes in the first place. 

It’s a miracle the floor is as clean as it is. He’s dressed as revealing as he can possibly get away with, short-shorts up to his bellybutton where his crop top meets it, and tube socks pulled up over his knees so they won’t scrape on the rough linoleum. He pulls his hair back into a ponytail for obvious reasons, and waits patiently, singing along softly to the booming club music that makes the ground rumble even from in here. 

He doesn’t have to wait long before he can hear someone stumble in, excitement welling up in his stomach in hopes that it’s someone looking for this little bit he can offer. He can’t do much more than this, but he does it pretty well. He braces his hands against his side of the stall on both sides of the hole, practically begging for it like a bitch in heat.

The anticipation makes him dizzy. The act itself is more than just something he does for occasional money. He likes doing this. Likes that behind the wall, it doesn’t matter if he’s annoying or clingy or a loser or any of the hundred other things that are wrong with him. There’s no bathroom stall with a hole cut into it in his real life to hide behind. It’s pathetic, but it’s easy. He loves being needed even if it’s for something so dirty. 

The filth excites him.

Terry watches the guy’s footsteps beneath the stall as they go to a urinal, then to the sink, then turn to go back into the club for more dancing. He’s almost sure it’s not happening, but the guy stops, turns in his direction, no doubt noticing the person kneeling on the ground underneath. Terry bites his lip. Begging ‘please’ in his head for this, just for one guy tonight to decide he wants this. 

His degenerate prayers are opened when the stall beside him opens, the stall the glory hole faces. He can barely stop himself from bouncing on his thighs with excitement. He’s a poor excuse for a slut if every sexual encounter with a stranger excites him like this. It’s just so thrilling for him. It’s all he wants, he just wants to do good.

The guy gives a hesitant knock just to confirm that this is what it is, probably his first time doing this. A lot of guys probably have their first glory hole experience with him, which makes Terry proud in a way. He knocks back to confirm, licking his lips.

He hears the familiar sound of a zipper being undone, the heavy breaths from the other guy just barely audible under the thumping music. In a few seconds, he’s greeted through the hole with a large, uncut cock that practically makes him drool. It’s gorgeous, veiny and thick — not to mention this is what it’s like when it’s mostly  _ soft _ . Holy shit.

There’s not much point in admiring it. The guy’s here for a good time. Still, Terry can’t help but speak a just barely audible “You’re so big, man...” to let him know that this is literally making his whole night. Maybe the flattery will give him a bigger tip.

He uses his hand to pull back the foreskin and his soft, plump lips envelop the tip. He goes in with his tongue, licking the slit and giving the foreskin a bit of slack so he can get under it as well. He closes his lips around the thick head, an action that draws out a deep, coarse sound from tonight’s anonymous suitor. The lips around him curl into a smile. Terry loves it when they make noise. Way too many of them try to preserve their dignity by not letting a faceless whore hear their sex voice. They should know that there’s no dignity in any of it. 

He takes it further into his lips and gives a little moan as it starts stiffening. The heavy beats outside seem to match his own heart. Terry’s absolutely obsessed with this feeling. He loosens up his throat to take him deeper, but it might be too much even for him to deep throat. The thought sends jolts of arousal up his spine. 

“Mm...” Terry mumbles around the cock as he works what he hasn’t gotten into his mouth yet with his hand. The man thrusts eagerly into Terry’s fist and it’s such a turn on to see this man he doesn’t know come undone between his fingers. He lets his drool purposefully drip down, smearing some on his hand to work the shaft with more ease. 

The music dulls in his mind and all he can focus on are the other man’s breathing and grunting. Terry flutters his eyelashes with pleasure — as if the guy would even be able to see it — and swallows down more of its length until it’s hitting the back of his throat and he gags as subtly as he can. Apparently, that’s what the man was waiting for. Like the act of Terry gagging on it is turning him on so much he can’t help but start thrusting himself in and out of the hole and in and out of Terry’s mouth. Terry chokes and lets out pathetic mewls of pleasure from the rough fucking. It’s as far as it can get into the hole and now Terry can make out some of the rest of him, mostly the thick hair all around his groin. 

“You’re so...Oh...” The stranger moans with gruff desperation in his voice, a voice reminding him of whiskey and cigarettes. Some guys talk to him like this, some don’t talk at all. Some talk like they’re in an amateur porno. He thinks he likes it best this way, likes the sounds of pleasure he elicits from these strange men that will only ever know him for what he does with his mouth. Maybe someday there’ll be something more.

Thinking about how much he just wants to be with a guy like this for real, Terry slips a hand into his too-tight shorts to get himself off where no one can see his shameless act of self indulgence. He closes his eyes and wishes the guy had the ability to yank on his hair, just to really hold him against his cock and force him to choke it all down. He does his best to keep his mouth as close to the base as he can, all while furiously rubbing between his own legs like a man possessed by his own lust.

He’s got this tendency to imagine things that aren’t there. He imagines this guy’s face as his perfect Adonis, and they’re in a bedroom instead of a club bathroom stall, with Terry still on his knees and the guy plowing into his mouth with the force and tact of someone who somehow loves and hates him at the same time. 

In the real world, he gags hard and moans, humping his hand desperately. He hopes the stranger can hear him and what he’s doing to him, how much he loves being a slut. Terry pushes two fingers inside himself and chokes him back all the way until his mouth is close to the hole. The heady smell of musk is overwhelming when he’s this close, but it’s amazing. Tears spill from his open eyes and his tube socks ride down his legs with the force of it all, scraping his knees a bit on the floor. Fuck, it’s all so disgustingly perfect. He’s a mess and it’s only the first guy.

“Your lips...” comes the voice from the other side, so deep it makes Terry moan and curl his fingers inside himself. “So fuckin’ soft...shit...” 

The cock throbs in his mouth. He knows well by now what that means. After working the twitching, veiny shaft to near completion, Terry pulls off and licks the underside of it, like every bit the whore that he is. It’s like he’s worshipping it, rubbing it against his face and placing feather-light touches against the strong shaft. With one last wet kiss to the tip, he begs. “Please...on my face...” he only realizes how breathy and desperate he sounds when he hears his own voice form words. 

That’s all the other man needs. Terry leans his head back and milks it one more time between his fingers before his cock twitches hard and covers his face with the thick, hot cum of a pent-up man. He smiles in complete bliss as he feels it, and it just keeps coming like the guy’s literally giving him all he’s got. 

Suddenly he clenches around his fingers still buried inside himself, letting out a shocked, slutty wail of pleasure when his own hand is enough to bring him over the edge right after, his whole body trembling with delight at the filth he’s become. Maybe the filth he always has been.

When the post-orgasm hits, Terry’s watching outside himself as the stranger pulls himself out of the hole with a shy thank-you. The realization hits him that he completely forgot about getting paid for this when the guy awkwardly shoves two twenties through the hole and can be heard zipping himself back into his pants. Terry catches the money and smiles to himself. This is way too much money for a glory hole at a shitty club, but he’s not about to go chasing after him to give it back, guilty as he may feel for taking forty dollars to do something that definitely gave him more pleasure than it gave the guy. He’s got rent to pay. 

Just like that, he’s gone, and Terry’s left with his fingers in his shorts and a weird longing. A useless need to run after the stranger that just came on his face and say something, anything. Convince him to take Terry home with him just for tonight, maybe. 

He leans backwards against the stall and sighs. He could reflect on something, but he just closes his eyes and lets the muffled music overtake him again. 

There’s always next time.

**Author's Note:**

> hey isnt it weird how even my porn has slight angst
> 
> Idk why i did this. You listen to new order one time and next thing you know youre writing nightclub blowjobs
> 
> In case you were wondering, i left it purposefully vague as to who the guy was, but I wrote him with Brad in mind. Oops
> 
> What’s brad doing in an 80s rave? I dunno but at least he had a good time. If you think it was him anyway
> 
> Comments and kudos are extremely appreciated, thank you for reading.


End file.
